


No Words

by dreyars



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, New Relationship, really that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreyars/pseuds/dreyars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fukunaga is Ennoshita's cutie cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Words

Fukunaga never really said much…or anything for that matter. Ennoshita thought it was kind of weird, but he made up for it with hums and nods and gestures that usually filled in for the words he didn’t say. It didn’t really bother Ennoshita much because he knew he _could_ talk when he needed to. Like the time a bee got into the gym and headed straight for Fukunaga who had just spilled part of a sugary sports drink down the front of his shirt. It was then Ennoshita learned, along with the rest of Karasuno and probably half of Fuku’s own team that yeah… He definitely could talk. 

He could also swear like a sailor until someone slowed him down enough to swat the bee away from his head.

His lack of words and constant silence were never really that big of a deal. He spoke when he needed to, and when he didn’t, someone else often spoke for him. It wasn’t a major issue, but it didn’t help to alleviate his talent of fading into the background of a rowdy crowd of shouting boys.

Ennoshita is too embarrassed to admit that he didn’t even know the other boy’s name until the first training camp of their third year. He was surprised when Nekoma’s Yamamoto introduced the quiet guy as the new captain before launching into a rant about how the old captain had determined that he himself was too reckless and loud to properly lead the team, while Fukunaga was apparently better at rallying the troops despite his lack of motivational speeches.

Fukunaga introduced himself with a raspy whisper once Yamamoto caught sight of Tanaka and ran off. He presented a hand for Ennoshita to shake, and despite his appearance, his grip was strong and tight, albeit a little bit clammy.

Throughout the entire training camp, Fukunaga’s silence was a near constant presence at Ennoshita’s side. He was like a nervous ball of energy, always looking ready to run off and disappear in a flash of light. He tried to talk every once in a while with a compliment for Ennoshita or his team, but it always came out as a whisper or unintelligible stutter. After having to ask him to repeat himself for the 15th time, Ennoshita simply patted his shoulder and told him not to try so hard. They could get along just fine without him trying to be so out of character.

The stuttering praises and attempts at comradery turned into two handed thumbs up which Ennoshita returned with a grin.

Ennoshita discovered that it was easier for Fukunaga to make his voice heard when they weren’t surrounded by their rambunctious teammates. His voice came to him easier, though still through short and aborted sentences. But Ennoshita found that he liked to watch the way Fukunaga’s face changed as he listened. He wasn’t particularly expressive, small gestures to match a small voice, but the way he raised his eyebrows or the way his thin lips would part when he was particularly attentive to what Ennoshita was saying was undeniably endearing. He liked the company of Fukunaga, because even though he never said much about himself out loud, Ennoshita never felt like he was talking to an empty room.

It was strange though that while he couldn’t find it in him to share bits of himself in person, Fukunaga was not quite so inhibited via text. They exchanged numbers at the end of the first training camp, and Ennoshita was convinced that it was never going to see much more use than a confirmation of a scheduled practice game every other month. That was until he had the unpleasant experience of milk shooting out of his nose after laughing to hard at a joke Fukunaga sent him during lunch.

A joke.

Sent to him by the perpetually silent Fukunaga.

That made him laugh so hard he shot milk from his nose.

He tried to catch his breath long enough to explain to Narita why the front of his uniform was now dowsed with snot flavored milk, but he ended up having to excuse himself to go wash his face and get a drink of water before he was actually calm enough to pull his phone out and reply to the message. However, as soon as the text popped back up on his screen, Ennoshita broke down into another fit of giggles that sporadically popped back up throughout the rest of the day. He actually had to be sent out in the hallway during his last class to collect himself again and nearly got smacked in the face during practice because the joke kept bubbling up and making him laugh.

That night was the first time Ennoshita ever actually called Fukunaga, and even though it was just to chew him out and was a ‘never send me a joke like that during school!’ type of call, it set up an odd little bridge of communication that was pleasant and friendly and exactly what Ennoshita needed when he couldn’t vent to anyone in his immediate proximity. Fukunaga was slow and careful when responding to texts, as if he needed an extra minute or two to collect his thoughts, but he always returned with well thought out words that either soothed Ennoshita’s anger or sent him into another fit of laughter. Every once in a while, Ennoshita would call him if he needed to say something more than a text would allow. There was always silence on the end of the line as Ennoshita tried to collect his thoughts after a long rant, but Fukunaga would always try to tack something on to the end of the conversation. An ‘I agree’, or a ‘you’ll be okay’. More frequently a ‘can I help?’ or an ‘I can come….if you need…’ Ennoshita always rejected those offers because he didn’t want to bother him by making him come all the way from Tokyo. But the offers composed of only a few words always made his heart thump and beat a little faster until he couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t mind if Fukunaga wanted to make the trip all the way up to Miyagi for him.

But still, it would be a little pointless because he was making his own trip to Tokyo for another training camp as soon as the interhigh competitions were completed. Karasuno was still rough around the edges with the loss of the old seniors and the addition of the new first years, and couldn’t quite make it this time around even though the loss was only by two points in a long set. The memory still made his heart clench, and it was the first night that Fukunaga had heard him cry over the phone. It was also the night that Ennoshita first heard the squirrely little guy string together more than six words in an attempt to assure Ennoshita that it was okay. That he had one more chance to make it in the spring. That it wasn’t his fault. That he was a good captain and that Fukunaga could be there in less than two hours if his mom let him borrow her car. By the time they hung up, they were both out of breath. Fukunaga from exerting himself beyond his usual limited verbal capacity and Ennoshita from choking on his own breath as he tried to find comfort in the effort Fukunaga was putting in to calm him down. Ennoshita pressed his face into his pillow as he fell asleep, distantly wondering what it would feel like if Fukunaga was the one he had his arms wrapped around instead of his scratchy old comforter. He also wondered what the other boy smelled like. He was so quiet, and reminded him so much of a ghost that he was nearly convinced that Fukunaga would smell like nothing.

Ennoshita found out it was more along the lines of grass and wood and earth and something else that tickled his nose when they gave each other a one armed hug at the start of the weeklong training camp. He was surprised because he never really picked Fukunaga for the outdoorsy type. Rather, he always pictured him as curled up in a ball on an old floral print couch with his phone an inch from his face. Ennoshita found out later that he always smelled like plants because his mother owned a flower shop, and the tickling in his nose only came when Fukunaga had been helping arrange daisies.

He also sneezed when Fukunaga presented him with a daisy the last night of training camp, nearly missing the boy’s whispered confession as he wiped his nose on the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Fukunaga visibly shuddered, hands shaking as he held the daisy out again, a little further away from Ennoshita’s face this time. A deep red blush flooded his face as he stuttered out, “I-I like y-you, Ennoshita-kun.”

“Oh.” Ennoshita stared at him for a second, plucking the daisy from the other boy’s hand probably only seconds before he ran off. But as soon as his hand was relieved of the weight of the delicate flower, his shoulders relaxed, and he waited expectantly for Ennoshita to say something else. He sighed and rolled the stem between his fingers, watching as the petals turned. A smile blossomed on his face as he looked up at Fukunaga who still watched on in silence, looking more and more nervous by the second. “I like you too.”

Fukunaga sighed and Ennoshita opened his arms, allowing him to step between them. Fukunaga was slightly taller than him, yet he fit there perfectly, long thin arms wrapping around Ennoshita’s back as he let out another contented sigh as his head fell to Ennoshita’s shoulder. They didn’t exchange any more words that evening, the silence being more than enough as they enjoyed the rest of the camp before they had to part again in the morning.

Fukunaga kissed him on the nose before he got on the bus in front of both of their teams. Ennoshita knew it was meant to embarrass him from the way Fuku grinned as he stepped backwards, towards his team and out of his reach. He was tempted to retaliate, to grab him by the front of his shirt and go in for the big smackdown, but Tanaka was already hanging out of the window calling out for him to get some, and Ennoshita was sure he was about to pass out from the sheer amount of blood that just rushed to his head.

Instead he simply covered his face with his hands as he bid Fukunaga and Nekoma goodbye for now.

Only for now because two weeks later Fukunaga was on his doorstep with a small handful of flowers, sans daisies this time, all dressed up and ready to go on their first date. Ennoshita was still drying his hair after morning practice when mom answered the door, allowing Fukunaga inside their home to wait.

“Is he okay? He only made a funny little noise when I asked him a question.”

Ennoshita smiled to himself as he pulled a shirt over his head. Of course his overly friendly mother would be a little off put by Fukunaga’s perpetual silence. “He’s okay. Just shy.”

His mother nodded before smiling sweetly. “Well, you seem really happy, Chikara. Be safe.”

Ennoshita grinned back before she retreated to the back of the house so that he could greet his date in peace. Fukunaga shot off the couch when Ennoshita emerged from the hallway, cheeks flushed and eyes wide as he looked him over. Silently requesting a hug, Fukunaga opened up his arms as he took a step closer. Ennoshita scrunched up his face when Fukunaga completed the hug with a kiss on the nose.

They went to the movies and to dinner at a quiet restaurant, places that Fukunaga would feel comfortable. He liked holding hands, never letting his loose grip on Ennoshita’s fingers drop until he pulled out his wallet to pay for the movie. Ennoshita tried to protest, but Fukunaga simply shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. Ennoshita sighed, letting him have his way for now.

Fukunaga rested his head on Ennoshita’s shoulder for the entirety of the movie, and didn’t say a word until half way through dinner. Ennoshita had caught him staring for perhaps the hundredth time that night. Fukunaga’s face flushed before looking down at his plate and mumbling something that Ennoshita wouldn’t have caught if he hadn’t been listening.

“You look nice.”

Ennoshita felt his own face begin to burn as he reached across the table to take Fukunaga’s hand. The other boy sighed, visibly relaxing as he let their fingers tangle together and one of his rare smiles to slip onto his lips.

It wasn’t that he didn’t smile because he wasn’t happy, he just chose to let his emotions display in other ways. Ennoshita quickly learned that when he was happy, Fukunaga would hum deep in his throat, the soft sound resonating through his entire body and out through the tips of his fingertips that were often tracing the lines of Ennoshita’s arms. When he was irritated, he would huff through his nose, the sudden noise always startling Ennoshita to the point that he would make Fukunaga actually speak to tell him what was wrong.

When he was sad, he didn’t make many noises at all, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t trying to communicate with Ennoshita. Instead of words or sounds, he liked to lie beside him, with his ear pressed over the left side of his boyfriend’s chest. Ennoshita would run his hands down his back, mapping out his shoulders and spine through his shirt until Fukunaga sighed, wrapping his arms around Ennoshita’s stomach and pressing a quick kiss over his heart. That was how Ennoshita would know that the bad feelings had passed and he had back his adorable cat back.

As they began to spend more time together, entire weekends spent at the other’s house, Ennoshita learned that while he didn’t really speak in plain words except for on special occasions, Fukunaga was anything but quiet. He expressed himself so clearly and vibrantly through soft noises and gentle touches and gestures that Ennoshita wondered how there ever was a point when he couldn’t read his expressions. 

And it’s not even like he couldn’t do it, it’s just that he didn’t try at first. But he’s so glad he did because if he didn’t, he never would’ve realized that while Fukunaga was happiest tucked away inside his bedroom, he also liked to lie in the grass of Ennoshita’s backyard when the sun was out and warm against his face. 

He would’ve never known that the fingers that were so brutally abused during volleyball practice were also delicate enough to knit a scarf in Ennoshita’s favorite colors a day after he tells Fukunaga what they are. 

He also never would’ve known how nice those fingers feel running in a soft line from his jaw to his hips.

He wouldn’t know how much Fukunaga liked to talk when he was tired or how many jokes that were Grade A comedy that his boy came up with in a day.

He never would have found out how much he liked being showered with flowers from Fukunaga’s mother’s shop.

He never would have discovered how much love can be shown through silence and how important a hug or two foreheads pressed together could be.

And most importantly, he never would have known that the chapped lips that never said more than a few words a week could be so soft and gentle and sweet when pressed up against his own.

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I'm not even really sure what this is but I am all aboard this ship 100% and even though there is no basis for it, I want you guys to be a part of this mess too. 
> 
> This ship is all fluff and cute and no sad so please, join me on this ride into sweetie land. ITS JUST REALLY CUTE.


End file.
